The Key to my Heart
by Sevfan
Summary: Harry and Draco meet again years after the defeat of the Dark Lord and, just as before, their relationship gets off on the wrong foot. But will it stay that way? Written for the 2006 Hex Files Lurvefest challenge.


Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: Harry and Draco meet again years after the defeat of the Dark Lord and, just as before, their relationship gets off on the wrong foot. But will it stay that way? Written for the 2006 Hex Files Lurvefest challenge.

Betas: My thanks go out to the lovely and talented C Dumbledore and Constant Vigilance for their invaluable help with this story. Couldn't have done it without you, my friends!

Written for the 2006 Hex Files Lurvefest challenge. For Loui, who wanted some fluffy romance, including the words: symphony, exasperating and tie. Enjoy!

**The Key to my Heart**

Harry reclined in the window seat watching the rain pour down. He shivered and, drawing the blanket closer around him, gave silent thanks that he was inside on such a thoroughly miserable day. He sighed loudly; he had a quandary on his hands and the solution was, thus far, elusive. Perhaps quandary wasn't the right word. Dilemma? Puzzle? Whatever it was called, it was giving him a headache. He rubbed his temples and sighed once again.

"_Meow_."

Harry turned to see Raven, Draco's jet-black cat, sitting next to him. The feline had its head cocked to one side, large yellow eyes gazing at Harry inquisitively. Raven had 'adopted' Draco several years back and the two had lived in harmony ever since. The first night Harry had moved in, Raven gave him a perfunctory sniff and promptly curled up in his lap and went to sleep. Draco had been shocked; Raven had always regarded everyone but himself with aloof disdain. The sleek animal had steadfastly avoided contact with all strangers, all except Harry, that is. Draco declared this as a sign that cohabitating with his lover was the right decision to make.

Harry had replied, tongue-in-cheek, "It's nice to know I have your cat's approval."

Draco warned Harry not to disregard the cat's wisdom, and scolded him playfully for being flippant. He then pulled the former Gryffindor to the floor, sending Raven hissing at his master for daring to disturb his slumber. Draco and Harry made passionate and very loud love on the rug by the fire in celebration of their new living arrangements. When it was over, Harry lay with Draco in his arms, both men spent, breathless and wonderfully sated. Harry happened to glance at Raven. The cat was stretched regally out, its tail flicking languidly, staring at him. In fact, Harry could swear that it was _smirking_. It was the first and only time that they made love in the presence of the cat.

"_Meow_."

"Hey there, pretty fellow," cooed Harry gently. "Have you any ideas what I could get your master for Valentine's Day?"

Raven meowed and padded up across Harry's body, settling on his chest. The cat rubbed its head against Harry's cheek and waited expectantly. When no caress was forthcoming, Raven repeated the action.

"_Me-eow_."

Harry chuckled and scratched Raven behind the ear. "Demanding, aren't we? You're Draco's cat all right. You two make a perfect pair."

The combination of Raven's contented purr and the patter of rain against the glass lulled Harry into a state of almost dreamlike reflection. He found himself remembering, in minute detail, the beginning of his new relationship with Draco. History seemed doomed to repeat itself and they, once again, did not start out on the best of terms…

The war had been over for four years and Harry had, at Ron's urging, joined him on the Chudley Cannons. The duo of Potter-Weasley had breathed new life into the once failing team, now the darling of Britain's Quidditch League. The team had done so well in fact, they had gone back to their old motto of 'we shall conquer'. Harry was in the spotlight anew, and he found that he didn't mind quite so much, what with Ron being there to share the glory with him. Ron blossomed under the watchful eye of the public and quickly became a favourite with the fans, especially the ladies. Harry had come 'out' in his first year at Chudley, causing a collective groan of dismay from a good portion of the witch population of Britain. That groan was offset by a shout of glee from gay wizards, who at last had a sports icon to call their very own. Neither young man was at a loss for companionship, and Ron, for one, was grateful that they were not in competition in that arena. He got all the lovely young ladies and Harry, all the dashing young men. It was a perfect arrangement for all concerned.

Harry would listen to Ron regaling their teammates with the details of his latest conquest and, more often than not, a wave of sadness would wash over him. He wished that Ron and Hermione had been able to work out their differences and stay together, but it was not meant to be. Their split had been an amicable one, so the three friends remained just that – friends.

Harry was grateful that none of his team members were expecting him to share his sexual exploits the way Ron did. They joked around and teased him mercilessly, but the details were best left unsaid. And Harry preferred it that way. Occasionally, someone would try to fix him up with a bloke, always saying that he'd be _just perfect for you, Harry_, but alas, he never was. Harry found himself quite lonely at times. He never wanted for sex: _that_ was plentiful and readily available any time of day or night. What Harry lacked was love. There was many a night that he wondered if he would ever find his Mr Right. Whoever he was, he'd done a bloody good job at hiding himself and Harry felt like he was rapidly running out of places to look.

Harry threw himself into his career, something that did not go unnoticed by the team owner, Fenton Harcourt. He took Harry under his wing and the two became great friends. Fenton was a very shrewd businessman and had done very well for himself. It wasn't very long before he became, not only Harry's friend, but his financial advisor as well. Harry was eager to learn how to manage the large sum of money left to him by his parents. He knew that if it were well invested, it could last him a lifetime, so he began to heed Fenton's advice. Harry was soon well-pleased with the return his investments were providing and it wasn't long before he trusted Fenton implicitly.

One afternoon, Fenton called Harry to his office. "Harry, how good of you to come so quickly!" he exclaimed.

"Well, you did make it sound rather urgent," replied Harry. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Ah yes, I rather suppose I did. I have an investment opportunity for you, one that I believe could turn a handsome profit." As he spoke, he poured two glasses of Old Ogden's and handed one to Harry. "I should warn you, it's not the usual sort of thing I suggest."

Harry's eyes grew wide over the top of his glass. Swallowing, he asked, "What is it, Fenton? You've piqued my curiosity."

"A restaurant."

"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Harry. "Isn't that kind of risky?"

"I believe in this project one-hundred per cent, Harry. You should know by now that I would never suggest it to you otherwise."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Um, sorry about that. You took me by surprise is all. Please, tell me more about this restaurant of yours."

"This friend of mine, he has it all worked out. He has the perfect concept, the perfect location, the best wizard chefs in Europe – all he lacks are the Galleons to get the project off the ground," said Fenton enthusiastically.

"And that's where I come in," added Harry. Fenton smiled broadly and nodded. "Tell me, Fenton, if this is such a good idea, how come you don't back it?"

"Harry, you know I like to play with the big boys. This is too small of a venture for me. Now for you, on the other hand, it is perfect."

"And this bloke, this friend of yours, he's an experienced restaurateur?"

"Actually, this will be his first."

"And you expect me to back this?" asked Harry excitedly.

"You should hear him, Harry! I have never heard anyone so sure of himself and his idea. He _will_ make it work. I know he will."

"I don't know, Fenton – "

Harry's words were cut off. "At least meet with him. I guarantee you will be just as enthusiastic as I am. C'mon, what do you say?"

Reluctantly, Harry said, "I suppose that's the least I can do."

"Excellent!" cried Fenton. "You won't regret it, my boy. I'll set up a meeting and get back to you. Now, don't you have practice?" He went to work and the meeting was set in two day's time.

Harry strode into the bar of the Wizarding Businessman's Club and searched the crowd for Fenton. He was anxious to meet this friend of his and hear about the proposal first hand. He had given the idea much thought over the past two days and had become intrigued with the idea of becoming a restaurateur, even if it was only in the background. If Fenton thought this was a good investment, then that should be good enough for him.

He spotted his friend at the back of the room, obviously holding court, judging from the group that surrounded him. As Harry walked toward the crowd, he found himself wondering if the topic of the day was the Cannons or money. With Fenton, either one was likely.

"Good afternoon, Fenton," said Harry.

The large man turned and replied gleefully, "Ah there you are! Punctual as always, my boy. Come, let me introduce you."

"This is the fellow I've been telling you about. Harry, this is – "

"Malfoy!" growled Harry. "What are you doing here?"

Fenton was gobsmacked. "You two know each other? "

"Unfortunately, yes," replied Harry quickly.

"Potter and I were…were at Hogwarts together," offered Draco quietly.

Harry was not pleased. "Did you know I was coming here today? Is this what this is? Some kind of a sick joke?"

"I knew nothing about your identity until just now, Potter," answered Draco. "If you don't believe me, ask him."

"It's true, Harry. I never once mentioned your name to Draco," swore Fenton. "I really don't know why you are reacting like this."

"No, you wouldn't. Ask him," said Harry, nodding toward Draco. When the blond didn't answer, Harry continued angrily. "Malfoy is bad news. Always was and always will be. He made my life miserable when we were younger. He's a lying, conniving git and not to be trusted. He obviously has the wool pulled over your eyes, Fenton."

"Harry, I – " began Fenton.

"No, it's all right," interrupted Draco. "I'm leaving. I'll not be spoken to like that by anyone, and especially not by him." He held out his hand to Fenton, who promptly took it. "Thank you anyway, Fenton. I appreciate your help. I'll be in touch." With his words, he turned and began to leave.

"Not going to beg me for my money, Malfoy?" asked Harry. With a taunting tone in his voice, he added, "Too bad. I would have enjoyed it so."

Draco stopped short and turned back to Harry, his jaw clenched. "I wouldn't ask you for a Knut, Potter. Not even if I were starving to death," he replied coldly and then walked away.

Harry's smirk was quickly erased by Fenton. "I am appalled by your behaviour, Harry!"

"But – "

"I have never seen you act so rudely! What came over you?"

"Malfoy," answered Harry simply.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Sixth year."

"And it never occurred to you that perhaps he's changed since then?"

"Impossible," snorted Harry.

"I never realised you were so prejudiced!"

"W-what?" sputtered Harry. "I am _not_ prejudiced."

"Well, you've got Malfoy all categorised and branded, haven't you? Let me tell you something, Potter."

Fenton's use of his last name stung Harry sharply. He sat meekly and listened to what the man had to say.

"I have known Draco Malfoy longer than I have you. He has shown himself to be a loyal and trustworthy friend. He's had a rough time, a _really_ rough time trying to make something of himself. If you think that it is easy fighting the stigma your parents left you with, think again. Malfoy is not a name that's readily welcomed."

"Malfoy is not blameless. He was going to – "

"Did he _do_ it?" asked Fenton.

"No, but he was going to – "

Fenton once again cut Harry off. "Draco has told me i everything /i . He regrets it all."

"He regrets that he got caught, more likely."

"Will you stop that!" shouted Fenton. "The man is sorry for his actions, well and _truly_ sorry. All he wants now is to make a life for himself and to live in peace. Is that too much to ask? It is people like you that are keeping him down."

Harry was extremely uncomfortable. Fenton was painting a picture of him that he didn't like at all. He attempted to change the direction of the discussion. "Why does he need money? Surely there must be enough in the Malfoy family fortune for this venture. Unless, of course, he has spent it all." Harry regretted his last statement as soon as the words left his lips.

Fenton sighed and shook his head. "Gone. Confiscated by the Ministry after his parents were Kissed."

"Oh," said Harry contritely.

"So you see, he hardly spent it. All he had was a small sum in his own personal account." Fenton scrubbed his hand over his eyes. "I'm tired. This has been one of the most exasperating afternoons I have ever spent in my life. If you will excuse me."

Harry stood as Fenton walked past. He felt he should say something, but kept silent for fear of digging himself in deeper than he already was.

"I am extremely disappointed in you, Potter," said Fenton harshly as he left.

There was that _Potter_ again. Harry's cheeks burned fire as a wave of shame washed over him. He sunk into a chair and sighed.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" asked a waiter timidly.

"Firewhisky, make it a double," answered Harry. "Please."

Harry sipped his drink and contemplated the afternoon's events. When his glass was drained, he ordered another and contemplated some more. After his third, he Apparated home.

Harry did not sleep well that night. He was tormented by Fenton's words and by his own. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Draco's face, looking so damned hurt! Knowing that he had been the cause was more than Harry could bear. It was not in his nature to be a cruel or unkind. No, he was the nice one, the one who protected everyone, stood up for them, took care of them. Well, everyone, except Malfoy it seemed. Staring up into the darkness, Harry came to a decision, one that he would act on in the morning.

HDHDHDHDHDHDHDHHDHDHD

The following day, Harry went straight to Fenton's office. He had been reluctant to meet with Harry, but finally relented and allowed him in. Harry wasted no time in apologising profusely, admitting that, after some serious soul searching, he had been wrong to treat Draco so horribly. Everyone deserved a second chance, and that he was willing to give one to Draco. He had allowed past events to cloud his judgement, and that he should have realised that if Fenton accepted Draco, he should as well. At least as far as business was concerned.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when Fenton finally accepted his apology. He was just about to leave when a piece of parchment was thrust into his hand. "What's this?" he asked.

"You convinced me, now convince him," answered Fenton.

Harry stared down at the parchment. On it was a hastily scribbled address. He didn't need to ask whose it was.

Looking down at the paper in his hand, Harry checked the address for a second time. No, no mistake, this was the right place. Harry had a hard time believing that a Malfoy lived in such an ordinary building. He had been expecting an upscale London townhouse or perhaps a small cottage, but a flat? In a working-class wizarding area? It didn't seem possible. Harry shrugged and entered the building. Seeing that there was no lift, Harry began to climb the stairs in search of number 307.

303…305…307. Harry stood before the door and tried to gather his thoughts. What exactly was it he was going to say? An even better question – would Malfoy listen? There was only one way to find out – Harry knocked.

He waited, listened, and upon hearing nothing, knocked again. He was about to leave when he heard approaching footsteps. Malfoy was home! Harry took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was to come.

"Yes?" Draco asked. At the sight of Harry, his tone changed. "What do _you_ want?"

"I came to explain, about yesterday, I mean," answered Harry awkwardly.

"Save your breath, Potter," spat Draco, who promptly moved to close the door.

Harry's arm shot out, blocking the way. "Please, Malfoy. I came to apologise."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "You came to apologise to me? Pffft! Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Yes. Please…Mal…Draco, let me make amends," replied Harry.

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously and then stood back to allow him entry. "You might as well come in. This speech you have to give me might just prove to be entertaining. I've been dreadfully bored today and this could be the diversion I need." As if to prove his point, Draco yawned broadly.

Harry nodded and stepped inside. Malfoy's flat was nothing at all like he expected. By no means luxurious, but it looked comfortable and lived in. Harry spied a wizard photograph of Narcissa on a bookshelf. He searched the room for one of Lucius, but was not surprised to find none.

"If you've finished gawping at my things, Potter, could we get on with this?" asked Draco impatiently.

"Sorry," said Harry. He took a deep breath and began, saying everything he wanted and needed to say to Draco, and doing it with as much honesty and sincerity as he could muster. When he had finished, he waited for a reaction, one that seemed to take forever to arrive.

At last, Draco drawled, "Do you expect me to believe all that?"

"Yes, I do. I mean every word of it. Please, let me make it up to you," said Harry. He extended his hand. "Please, Draco?"

"I offered my hand to you once, and you rejected it, Potter. It would be so easy now for me to do the same and oh, so sweet."

Harry held his hand steadfastly out. "We're not eleven anymore, Draco. A lot has happened to both of us. I'd like to make a fresh start." He gave his hand a little shake of encouragement. "I'm Harry."

Draco had stood the whole time with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, in defiance or in protection, Harry wasn't sure. Grey eyes scrutinised him carefully, and then, very slowly, a pale hand came forward to grasp his own. "Draco."

Harry released the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. "Thank you, Draco," he said. "You won't regret this."

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" stated Draco. "Well, where do we go from here, Potter?"

"I'd very much like to hear your plans for this restaurant of yours. Fenton was so enthusiastic."

"You mean you might invest after all?" inquired Draco, a touch of surprise colouring his voice.

"Yes," answered Harry, "if I like your proposal."

"Come through, then. I'll make some tea."

It was a surreal afternoon for Harry – sitting at Draco Malfoy's kitchen table, drinking tea that Draco had made _without_ benefit of his wand, listening to him expound on the details for the restaurant. Harry had to admit that Draco did seem to know what he was talking about. He outlined everything to Harry, right down to the smallest of details. He spoke with such enthusiasm that Harry couldn't help but be swept up in it. From the gleam in Draco's eye, Harry could swear he had been speaking of his lover, if he hadn't known better.

After Draco had shown Harry every document, every drawing and scrap of fabric, he said, "That's all I have to say." He sat down and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry could see the nervousness that Draco _almost_ concealed and decided not prolong the process. "That was quite the presentation. You seem to have thought of everything."

"I have," replied Draco with confidence.

"And you're sure you'll be able to make this venture a success?"

Draco swallowed hard. He seemed to be searching for the right words. "It…it's like this…I will be putting…every last Galleon that I have into this. It _has_ to work." He shook his head, "Gods, I can't believe I just told you that."

"No, I'm glad you did. You're being honest with me and I appreciate it, partner."

It took a second for Harry's words to sink in. "Partner? You mean you'll do it? Really?" asked Draco.

Harry stood and held out his hand. This time, there was no hesitation on Draco's part. "Thank you, Harry. I promise you that you won't regret this."

"I'm counting on it," replied Harry.

One week later, Harry Potter put quill to parchment and went into partnership with Draco Malfoy. Ron thought that his friend and flatmate was stark raving mad. Hermione, ever the voice of reason, reserved judgement until she had heard all of the facts. Harry patiently explained it to her, in much the same fashion Draco had explained to him. At the end, Hermione gave her blessing, pronouncing the deal a sound one.

Harry had insisted that, as part of the bargain, he be allowed to participate in the process of getting the restaurant up and running. Draco quirked an eyebrow at the request, but finally agreed when Harry assured him it was for the opportunity to learn and not to interfere.

Once things had been set in motion, Harry met with Draco as often as his Quidditch schedule would allow. He kept his word and did not interfere, at least not often anyway. There were a few times that he offered suggestions, some of which Draco used, some of which he didn't. Although he didn't tell Draco, Harry was quite pleased when Draco did heed his advice.

As time went by, Harry found that he enjoyed spending time with Draco. He had a keen mind, a wicked sense of humour, a thoughtful and generous nature, and thankfully, he kept his sharp tongue in check. Harry quickly realised that he hadn't known Draco Malfoy at all.

One of the things that he also learned about Draco was that, like himself, he was gay. He found out quite by accident one day when he came upon Draco being thoroughly snogged by a dark-haired man. Harry cleared his throat and the two broke apart, leaving Draco blushing rather fetchingly, or so Harry thought. The dark-haired man turned out to be Draco's boyfriend, Dante. Tall, with curly black hair and piercing blue eyes, Dante was one of the most gorgeous men Harry had ever seen. His Italian accent only helped to make the man more appealing, and Harry watched him bid goodbye to Draco with more than a tinge of jealousy.

Slowly, but surely, the restaurant took shape and at last the big day arrived. Harry, who had purposely kept his name from being associated with the restaurant, attended the grand opening along with Ron and several other wizarding celebrities. Draco also kept to the background, in order to keep the Malfoy name from casting a shadow over the festivities. Draco was no fool; he knew that his name could possibly keep customers away. It had been his plan from the beginning to keep a low profile until business took off.

Just as Draco had predicted, the restaurant was a roaring success. It garnered rave reviews in the _Evening Prophet_ and before long everyone was clamouring for a reservation at "Symphony". Draco had selected the name after much thought. Since he had decided to include many Muggle specialties that were unfamiliar to most witches and wizards, thereby creating a harmonious blend of the two cultures, the name seemed to fit perfectly.

When Draco told Harry that he was including Muggle food on the menu, Harry had refrained from making all the snarky comments that ran through his head. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that he would ever hear Draco Malfoy embracing Muggle culture, but he had heard it for himself. Harry couldn't help but think that Draco _had_ changed for real.

As Symphony grew, Harry and Draco's working relationship grew into friendship. They found themselves spending time together outside of what was necessary for business purposes, discovering that they had many things in common, not the least of which was Quidditch. Draco became a regular spectator at all of Harry's matches. The Muggle cinema was also a favourite for the two young men.

It became their habit to go once a week to a different restaurant to 'check out the competition' and to look for new and exciting items that they could add to Symphony's menu. One evening, Draco was late and Harry was quickly concerned; Draco was _always_ early for their rendezvous. Not once had he arrived as much as a minute late. Harry sat sipping white wine and gazing expectantly out the window, watching for Draco to arrive. When at last he appeared on the pavement, Harry could see immediately that something was amiss.

Draco rushed to the table and said breathlessly, "I'm so sorry for being late, Harry. I was…unavoidably detained."

Harry handed Draco a glass of wine and said, "No problem. What's wrong? And don't tell me nothing. I can see by your face that there is."

Draco took a deep sip and sighed. "I chucked Dante out on his arse."

"Oh no! What happened?" asked Harry.

"I found out that he's been fucking every wizard from here to Rome and back. We had agreed to be exclusive, but it seems that he had other ideas."

Harry grimaced. "Ouch, that hurts."

"He told me once that his name meant 'lasting'," Draco said. "Bollocks to that! You know what really makes me furious? The deception and lies. I had enough of that when I was younger to last me a lifetime and I won't stand for it now. It makes my blood boil when I think about it."

"I'm really sorry, Draco," consoled Harry. "It hurts so bloody much when the people we love betray us."

Draco snorted. "That's for all you sappy Gryffindors."

Harry was somewhat taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Love – it's a load of codswallop if you ask me. I was fond of him and he was a fabulous shag, but I didn't love him. I don't _do_ love, Harry."

"That's very cynical of you."

"I'm just being realistic. Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes."

"And where is he now?"

"He…he left me for someone else," stammered Harry.

"I can see by the way you answered that it hurt you."

"Yes, I was devastated," replied Harry honestly.

"Which is why I'll never love anyone – no one will _ever_ do that to me, Harry. I don't need or want it. Friendship and affection are more than enough, thank you very much."

"But Draco – "

"I know you mean well, Harry, but you can keep your Gryffindor sentimentality. Love is not a word in my vocabulary, unless I'm talking about Quidditch or food. Speaking of which, can we please order? I'm famished."

Harry knew that this was Draco's way of saying that the discussion was over. He had so much more that he wanted to say to Draco, but he kept silent. He knew that his words would bounce back off the wall that Draco had erected around his mind and his heart.

That night as Harry lay in bed, he couldn't help but be pleased that Dante was out of the picture. Yes, he felt awful for Draco, but if he were honest with himself, he never liked the man. Gorgeous he might have been, but there was always something about him that niggled Harry and it seemed that his instinct had been right. As well, Draco's attitude towards love bothered him tremendously. Harry couldn't understand how anyone could so steadfastly deny love and all the joy that it could bring. Yes, there were risks involved, and yes, it could bring pain, as Harry knew all too well, but love was out there, somewhere. For Draco as well as himself. Harry fell asleep feeling very sad that his friend couldn't or wouldn't see it.

After a year's time, Symphony was showing more than handsome profits and Draco used some of his share to purchase a home. It was by no means a stately manor such as the one he had grown up in, but grand enough for Draco's needs. He painstakingly decorated the house, taking his time until he found exactly the items he wanted, refusing to move in until everything was perfect.

When that day came and Draco was well settled, he threw a housewarming-belated-birthday party. He invited all of his friends, old and new, the new outnumbering the old by a large number. Draco had come into the spotlight once Symphony's success was beyond damage, and not surprisingly, the Malfoy name did not seem to bother anyone any longer. He told Harry that he knew that many of his new acquaintances were more celebrity chasers than true friends, but he didn't care. He wanted as many people as possible at his party, all having a wonderful time in his honour.

It was one of, if not the, best party Harry had ever attended. The company was wonderful, the food, catered by Symphony of course, delicious, the music lively. He ate and drank more than his fill, and danced until his legs ached, even managing to take a turn or three on the dance floor with Draco. At two in the morning, the last of the guests finally Apparated home, leaving Harry and Draco alone. They strolled out onto the terrace to enjoy their cognac under the warm spring moonlight. They chatted amicably, leaning on the railing of the terrace and reliving the more amusing moments of the evening. Before long, they were giggling like schoolgirls, unable to stop.

"I think we've had bit too much to drink," said Draco, trying but failing to keep a straight face.

Harry laughed and replied, "Don't worry about it. It suits you." And with his words, he leaned over and kissed Draco very gently and quickly.

When the kiss was over, Draco held his eyes closed for a few beats and then slowly opened them. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip seductively and then let the corner of his mouth quirk upwards into a smirk.

"Surely you can do better than that, Potter," he said playfully.

Harry had been 'testing the waters' with the kiss. He had purposely held back to see what Draco's reaction would be. Now that he knew it was welcomed, he replied, "You had better believe I can."

Harry pulled Draco into his arms and began to kiss him properly this time. It started out slowly, tongues tentatively seeking each other, tasting and exploring unknown territory, and growing bolder with each passing second. Harry felt a thrill shoot through his body; he had been attracted to Draco for some time, but had never had the courage to act – until tonight, that is. The myriad of fantasies that had haunted his daydreams could not hold a candle to the kiss and the feeling of Draco in his arms. It was one of those surreal moments, the kind he often had where Draco was concerned. Here he was about to make love to a man who had once been his enemy, and it was what Harry wanted more than anything else in the world.

As the embrace grew more passionate, Harry felt Draco's strong hands trace slowly down his back and then caress his arse, kneading the flesh firmly. Suddenly, Draco pulled Harry closer with a jerk, until their bodies were flush against each other. Harry could feel that Draco was hard and he knew that Draco could feel that he was, too. There was no misinterpreting the message.

Harry whispered, his voice hoarse with desire, "Take me to your bedroom, Draco."

"Fuck, yes!" Draco gasped. With the answer, he ground his hard cock into Harry's hip and Apparated them both to his room. Draco turned away from Harry and murmured a spell, quickly lighting some of the candles.

Before he could move, Harry came up behind Draco and slid his hand across his hip and down to the blond's crotch. "Light some more," Harry purred, accenting his words with a caress. "I want to be able to see _this_ properly." Draco moaned and hastily complied.

In a tangle of arms, they divested one another of their clothing, the garments ending up in a haphazard pile on the floor. Harry stood back and drank in the sight of Draco standing before him, lithe, muscular and _hard_. Unable to resist any longer, Harry reached out and began to stroke Draco's cock lightly. In no time at all, Draco was thrusting wildly, desperate to find his release, and pleading with Harry to let him come. Harry eagerly granted the demand, using both hands and watching Draco's face closely as he cried out. _So beautiful_, thought Harry.

When he had recovered, Draco pulled Harry to his bed and devoured him whole, giving back all the pleasure he had received. Harry ran his fingers through Draco's silken locks and moaned loudly as the talented mouth and tongue teased him closer and closer to his orgasm. When at last he, too, went over the brink, Draco did not withdraw and swallowed all that he had to offer, pleasing Harry enormously. Draco sat up, grinned cheekily, kissed Harry and then settled down against his chest with a contented sigh. It didn't take long for both to fall fast asleep.

Harry woke up some time later and found himself spooned against Draco's back. He was so comfortable and had no desire to move, but he needed very badly to go to the loo. He lay there for a bit, trying to figure out the best way to get out of bed without disturbing the sleeping Draco, until he could wait no longer. He slid carefully out and padded to the bathroom. Feeling much relieved, he crept back to the bedroom and stared down at Draco. From the slip of light peeking through the curtains, he realised that it was morning, but what time, he had no clue. Should he climb back into bed? Should he leave? What would Draco say when woke up and he realised what they had done? Harry suddenly felt nervous – perhaps Draco would regret it. He decided that it might be best if he left and began to hunt for his clothes. Suddenly, the sheet flipped up from the bed, revealing Draco's naked backside. Without a word, a hand reached out and patted the bed. Harry smiled; Draco wanted him back where he had been. He wasn't upset after all! Harry scrambled across the large bed and snuggled himself up to Draco's back, just as before.

"S'nice," mumbled Draco sleepily.

Harry agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly and gave Draco a little squeeze for an answer. They both drifted back to sleep, contented smiles gracing both their faces. Six weeks later, on his birthday, Draco asked Harry to move in with him. Harry said it was the best birthday present he ever received.

…Now, almost seven months later, Harry sat wondering about Valentine's Day. He knew it was corny and sappy, and that Draco certainly felt that way (more codswallop, he had said), but the day meant a lot to him. As the weeks turned into months, Harry came to the realisation that he was in love with Draco, and very much so. When he had moved in, he hadn't been sure of his feelings. He knew that he cared for Draco, but love? It was only through sharing his day to day existence with him that the truth became evident.

Harry was madly in love with Draco, and yet the word had never escaped his lips. So many times, he had tried and failed. How do you tell a man who doesn't believe in love that you love him? The fear of rejection kept Harry silent, but now, as Valentine's Day approached, things were about to change. He _needed_ to tell Draco how he felt, and he needed to do it now. Harry decided that if affection was all that Draco could give him, it would be enough, but Draco must be told. And what better day to do it than February 14th?

Harry stroked Raven's neck absentmindedly, the silver charms on the cat's collar jingling gently under his finger. Harry looked down at the charms and smiled; only Draco Malfoy would ensure that his cat was properly dressed. Harry examined the shiny trinkets one by one – a mouse, a heart, a cream bottle and a key. The first three he understood, but the key had always perplexed him. One day he must remember to ask Draco its significance. A key, a silver key…Harry's eyes grew wide. That was it! He knew what he was going to do on Valentine's Day!

He held Raven in the air and exclaimed, "Such a clever boy you are! There's a piece of salmon in the kitchen with your name on it." Harry padded off to give the cat his reward, grinning broadly as he set the bone-china dish on the floor. _This was going to be good_, he thought as the plans began to take shape in his head.

DHDHDHDHDHDHDHDHD

February 14th started out like any other day; Harry went to morning practice while Draco poured over Symphony's books. They had a quiet luncheon together during which the only mention of Valentine's Day came from Draco, who said in passing that the restaurant was fully booked for the night. Harry replied, _You don't say_ and quickly changed the subject. At precisely 3:30, Draco Apparated, as he always did, to Symphony.

"Meester Draco! Zank Merlin you are 'ere!" exclaimed André, the Head Chef. "Eet is un désastre!"

"Calm down and tell me what's going on, please," said Draco evenly.

"Eet is la commande, ze food for tonight, eet has not arrived!"

Draco was perplexed. "I don't understand; we've never had problems before."

"Eet is ze Moldus, how you say, Muggles. Pleeze, you must speak to zem," pleaded Henri.

"The Muggle supplier you say? This couldn't have come at a worse time, our busiest night and all. I'll have to get this mess straightened out. Carry on the best you can, André. Hopefully, I won't be long," said Draco, who promptly disappeared.

André grinned. "Tell me, 'ow did I do, Meester 'arry?"

Harry removed his cloak and replied, "Perfect."

Three hours later, an exhausted Draco Apparated in an alleyway not too far from Symphony. He had spent the most frustrating afternoon of his life. He had gone in search of his missing food, only to be sent from one Muggle to another, each one passing the buck onto someone else. By the time he reached what was to be his last stop, his hand was dangerously close to his wand, ready to hex the next incompetent Muggle, Ministry rules be damned. It turned out that shipment had been sent out, quite some time ago, albeit late. His visits had been for naught.

Draco walked along the pavement towards the restaurant, determined not to let his experience ruin his day. He had a long night ahead of him and he needed to be at his most charming, not foul-mouthed and bad-tempered. Draco liked to arrive at Symphony on foot from time to time, just so that he could see the long queue of people, all waiting patiently for their reservation.

Draco rounded the corner and stopped short, his mouth open in shock. There was not one witch or wizard outside of Symphony! Impossible! They were fully booked, right up until closing time; Draco had seen the reservations book with his own two eyes. He ran forward and peered in the window – the restaurant was in complete darkness!

"What the fuck is going on?" he muttered to himself as he tried to open the front door. It wouldn't budge, even with the help of his wand. He tried to Apparate inside and found that he couldn't. Furious, he stormed around back to try another door. To his great surprise, he found it ajar. He withdrew his wand and cautiously entered.

There was not a soul in the kitchen. The place should have been a beehive of activity. Draco ran a hand through his hair in frustration and then he heard it; music. Soft music seemed to be coming from the dining room! His wand outstretched, he advanced.

"Harry!" exclaimed Draco. There was Harry, dressed in the tailor-made suit and tie Draco had given him for Christmas, holding a red rose in his hand.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Draco," said Harry as he offered up the flower. "Surprised?"

"That's putting it mildly. Where is everyone? Where are all the customers?"

"I took care of them all. Don't worry about them."

"But the business…"

"Will be just fine. They'll all come another night. I wanted it to be just you and I, here alone," said Harry sincerely.

"Wait – this was a set up, wasn't it? You sent me on a wild dragon chase this afternoon."

Harry blushed and nodded. "Yes, and I hope you're not angry with me. I wanted us to have dinner together in our restaurant."

"André; the Muggles?"

"All in on it as well, I'm afraid," admitted Harry. "I had to make sure you weren't here." Harry bit his lip. "So, are you cross with me?"

Draco eyed Harry from head to toe, and keeping a straight face, said, "I was very angry this afternoon." Harry's face fell. "But seeing you, standing there and looking gorgeous in the suit I gave you…" Draco stepped forward, took the rose from Harry and gave it a sniff. "How could I stay angry?"

Harry's eyes shone brightly as he launched himself into Draco's arms. After a kiss, he whispered, "Thank you."

"Besides," said Draco, "your little plan was very cunning and very Slytherin. I can appreciate it, even if I was the victim. I do, however, expect you to make it all up to me."

Harry grinned and replied, "Oh, I intend to do that all right."

"Good. Listen, Harry, this is a bit awkward, but I…um, don't have anything for you. You've gone to a lot of bother, but you know I don't go in for all this romance stuff."

"I know, Draco," said Harry. "I wasn't expecting anything. This is something that I wanted to do for _you_. Drink?"

"Please," replied Draco.

Harry and Draco shared drinks and then partook of the sumptuous feast that André and the staff had prepared for them. Over tea and dessert, Harry began to grow nervous, concerned how Draco would receive the gifts he had to give him, especially the second one.

"Hmm," said Draco as he stretched his arms. "That was wonderful, Harry. I'm about ready to burst. How about we send this lot back to the kitchen and then go home?"

Draco made to stand, but Harry stopped him. "Wait, Draco. I have some presents for you as well."

"This was more than enough. I don't deserve anything else. Gods, I feel horrible for not getting you anything," said Draco with dismay.

"Stop that! I told you it was okay. This night is for you, Draco. Here, take it."

Draco gingerly took the roll of parchment and looked at it questioningly. The paper was tied with a green ribbon and a little silver key hung from the bow. "What is this?" he asked.

"Open it and see," replied Harry quickly.

"H-Harry! I-I can't accept this! It's too much," stammered Draco, trying to force the parchment back into Harry's hand.

"No, it's yours now," retorted Harry.

"But this is the deed to Symphony!"

"And in your hands is where it belongs. This was your idea, Draco. You planned and oversaw the whole operation, right down to the napkins on the table. I just came along for the ride. This is _your_ restaurant and you should be its sole owner."

"I don't know what to say," said a gobsmacked Draco.

Harry replied cheekily, "Thank you might be nice."

Draco blushed and gave Harry a bear hug. "Thank you so much, Harry. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," answered Harry. He smiled as he watched Draco read the document over and over. Gift number one had been a smashing success; it was now time for his second surprise. Harry took a deep breath and pushed a small box in Draco's direction.

Draco looked over at Harry and opened his mouth to protest, but Harry gave him a nod of approval. As he ripped the paper, Draco said, "This is way too much, Harry. Just wait until your birthday."

Inside the box, Draco found another key. Obviously made of gold, it was ornately crafted, with red and golden ribbons tied through the hole at the top. "I don't understand," said Draco.

Harry stepped forward, extracted the key from the box and pressed it into Draco's hand. "This, my darling Draco, is the key to my heart. There are three little words that I have wanted to say to you for some time now, and I have decided that tonight was a perfect time to say them. Draco, _I love you_."

Draco stared wordlessly at Harry, his mouth open in disbelief. His head began to shake back and forth.

"Draco, what is it? Say something," begged Harry, panic showing in his voice.

"I…I," stumbled Draco. Before he could say another word, he had Disapparated from Symphony.

It was now Harry's turn to stare in disbelief – Draco was gone, just like that, with barely a word spoken. Harry had known that his admission might come as a bit of a shock, but he never expected Draco to leave like that!

"He'll be right back after he's had a chance to absorb what I said," said Harry quietly to himself. "I took him by surprise, that's all." Harry sat down to wait for Draco's return. And he waited, and waited, but there was no sign of the blond. After an hour, it became quite clear to Harry that he _wasn't_ coming back.

"What the fuck have I done?" Harry asked himself as he, too, disappeared home. "Draco?" he called out expectantly upon arrival in the lounge. "Draco?" No answer came.

He lit the fireplace and curled up on the sofa to wait for Draco's return. Raven jumped into his lap and meowed. Harry sighed and stroked the cat. "I've blown it, little one. Me and my big gob."

Draco did not return for many hours, providing Harry plenty of time to reflect upon what had transpired. Some harsh realities had come to light and he could no longer ignore their existence. He had no choice anymore.

"Hullo," said Draco.

"Where have you been all this time?" asked Harry.

"Walking. And thinking."

"Would you care to explain what happened back there?"

"I panicked," answered Draco simply.

"I tell you I love you and you panicked?"

"Yes. You sound surprised, Harry. You know how I feel about all this love business."

"I thought I knew the risk I was taking by admitting my feelings for you, but I never expected you to run. I imagined that, even if you couldn't return the sentiment, you would at least take it with good humour. I thought I would at least get _I'm very fond of you, Harry_, but no. Instead, you fled."

"I didn't mean to hurt you. It is the last thing I wanted to do," offered Draco. "Especially after you were so good to me tonight. Did you want the deed back?"

"I don't care about that!" shouted Harry. He lowered his voice and continued, "That is yours to keep. Forget about it. We have more important things to deal with. I spent a lot of time thinking tonight, too, and I've come to some conclusions."

"I have a feeling I don't want to hear them," said Draco quietly.

"You have no choice." Harry sighed and began to speak. "I came into this relationship fully aware of your views on love. Even after I realised that I was in love with you, I told myself that it didn't matter that you couldn't love me back. I was willing to take whatever you could give me. However, I had to tell you how I felt, even if it was risky.

"The look I saw on your face tonight convinced me that I had made a grave mistake and that I had been fooling myself all along. I _need_ you to love me, Draco. Affection isn't enough. I want to be able to love you and to feel that love returned. I can't and won't settle for less. I _deserve_ to be loved. If you can't give me that, then I'm afraid that's it, Draco."

"What do you mean, that's it?"

"There's no point in continuing. I'll pack my things in the morning."

Draco's face went pale. "Please, Harry, I don't want you to go."

"Can you give me what I need?" When Draco didn't answer, Harry said, "Ah, I see. I'm going to bed; I have a splitting headache."

"Harry…"

"Goodnight, Draco." Harry spoke without looking back, and left the lounge.

Draco reached out for Raven, hoping to find a modicum of comfort from the usually affectionate cat, but Raven quickly jumped off the sofa and followed after Harry.

"Bollocks," murmured Draco. "What have I done?"

HDHDHHDHDHDHDHDHD

The following morning, Harry awoke and a wave of sadness washed over him. He was about to leave Draco, something that he didn't want to do, but had to, for his own well-being and happiness. He rose and made his way to the kitchen; he needed a coffee, a strong one, to face what lay ahead. Passing through the lounge, he was surprised to find Draco sitting in the window seat, staring off into the distance. He looked rough.

"Have you been there all night?" inquired Harry. "You look like shit."

Draco answered back, "Feel like it too." Harry merely nodded and turned to leave. "Wait!"

"What is it, Draco? I need a coffee," said Harry impatiently.

"I don't know what it feels like."

"What?" asked Harry.

"Love. I have never been in love, Harry. How am I supposed to know what it feels like if I've never experienced it? I don't know the words; I don't know _how_ to love anyone," replied Draco, desperation evident in his voice.

"Well, no one does, Draco. It's just something that comes naturally."

Draco's gaze fell downwards and his words were a mere whisper. "Not for me, it doesn't. Please, can't you explain it all to me? I want to understand."

Harry was caught off guard by Draco's heartfelt questions. "I…I really don't know how to explain."

Draco stood and clutched at Harry's arms, pleading, "Please, Harry, you have to help me. Tell me how you know that you love someone. Tell me how you know that you love _me_. Please!"

"It's not an easy thing to describe, Draco," Harry began. "You're all I can think about. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about how long it will before I see you again. When we're apart, I feel miserable. I'm lost.

"But when we're together, I feel whole again and happy. You complete me, Draco. Without you, I'm half a man. You smile at me and all's right with the world.

"Making love to you, Draco, is so much more than just sex. It's at those moments that I feel closest to you, almost as if my soul is joined to yours. I have never experienced such pleasure with anyone else. Being with you is pure bliss." A sob escaped Harry's lips and he covered his eyes with his hands. "I'm walking away from all this. Merlin help me, I don't want to, but I must."

Draco pulled Harry close. "I've been an idiot. All those things you've said, I feel them, too. The thought of you leaving makes me sick inside. I'll be lost without you; hopelessly and completely lost. I need you, Harry, but I'm afraid. I'm terrified to say those words."

"Don't be," said Harry gently. "You need to say them just as much as I need to hear them. Please, do it for us both."

Draco reached into his pocket and placed something hard into Harry's hand. Harry looked down and saw that it was the key! His first fleeting thought was that Draco was giving it back, unable to offer up his love, but then he saw them. There, tied to the top, were two more ribbons, a silver and green joining his red and gold! Harry's heart leapt!

"I give this back to you," whispered Draco, "so that we may share it. It is the key to my heart as well. Forgive me for being blind and ignorant; for not seeing what it is you really mean to me. You are my life, my everything. Harry, I…I love you. Today, tomorrow and forever."

Harry closed his eyes and rejoiced. When he opened them again, they were shining brightly with unshed tears of joy. "Today, tomorrow and forever, my love."

With murmured proclamations of love, they fell into a deep embrace and kissed with newfound passion. The key fell to the floor as it slipped from Harry's hand and bounced on the thick Persian carpet. The shiny object caught Raven's eye, and he immediately curled up around it, protecting the symbol of his masters' love from any who dared touch it. If Harry had not otherwise been occupied, he would have sworn, once again, that the cat was smirking.

Fin.


End file.
